


Home Run

by GhostyGhosty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baseball, Falling In Love, Fluffy Ending, New York City, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:58:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostyGhosty/pseuds/GhostyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sharp bark of a metallic bat hitting a ball startled her from her musings just in time to see said ball fly over the divider in a clear home run. Not needing to look up to know who hit the damn thing, she tried once again to return to her book despite the loud cheers and cat calls from his team and few spectators.</p><p>“Nice hit dog!” she heard her soon to be ex caw.</p><p>Turning her attention to the big hulk of a man who was rounding third base in a lazy jog, she was surprised to see his attention trained on her, not Jeoffrey.</p><p>He looked bored, sweaty, and entirely too delicious with his long unruly hair in a bun at the back of his head, the few strands that had fallen loose framing his face. She gave him a small smile as he huffed in a knowing way and turned his behemothly sized body towards home plate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wind-Up

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!
> 
> This is my first work ever to see the light of day (or at least the glowing light of your cell phones or laptops).  
> I have plans for this fic if anyone likes it well enough
> 
> Please be gentle, this is unbeta'd, and my first fanfic-baby. If you don't like it cheers matey, but if you do!  
> If you do, well then, yay! I have no prizes for you, but I will send good vibes and a poorly executed wink in your general direction.
> 
> So yeah. =D
> 
> ** Chapter one can be read as a one shot**

 Sitting in full sun by the baseball diamond in Central Park was not what Sansa had envisioned for her and Jeoffrey’s date today. He told her they would be going to the park together leaving their cellphones and laptops to spend an afternoon in each others company, not waiting and watching him play and mouth off with his buddies on the league for three hours. After the first game, she thought there would still be enough time to walk around the lake before sunset and have a romantic picnic, but when Meryn suggested they play another Jeoffrey immediately commanded everyone stay for a second game.

 _At least the sun will set soon and it will be cooler_ , she thought as she lamented not bringing sunscreen with her. Another small voice in her head piped, _yeah well it would be a lot cooler in your apartment, but instead you’re going to sit here and bake into a crispy ginger snap_.

Sighing, she turned back to her romance novel that she had brought with her from the car just in case her and Jeoffrey ended up finally having that relaxing picnic he promised her four months ago when they first started dating. He was charming, educated, and from a well to do family, a combination seriously hard to find in New York. Lately though, his charm had begun to fade as an ill conceived attempt to hide his arrogance and narcissism. Two things she was desperate to never experience from a partner ever again after Harry the Heir. I should really just bite the bullet and break up with him today, especially since he’s leaving for the week to the Hamptons. She had been planning to break up with him for some time, but it never seemed to be the right moment. _You’re chicken is more like it_ , she thought

The sharp bark of a metallic bat hitting a ball startled her from her musings just in time to see said ball fly over the divider in a clear home run. Not needing to look up to know who hit the damn thing, she tried once again to return to her book despite the loud cheers and calls from his team and few spectators.

“Nice hit dog!” she heard her soon to be ex caw. “Doesn’t it feel good to score something once in a while?” he chuckled. She peered over the edge of her book just in time to see Jeoffrey’s face sporting a mocking lascivious grin. _Really? Was I drunk this entire time?_

“You never seem to” she heard Sandor shoot back, chuckling as he took his victory turn around the bases.

Turning her attention to the big hulk of a man who was rounding third base in a lazy jog, she was surprised to see his attention trained on her, not Jeoffrey.

He looked bored, sweaty, and entirely too delicious with his long unruly hair in a bun at the back of his head, the few strands that had fallen loose framing his face. She gave him a small smile as he huffed in a knowing way and turned his behemothly sized body towards home plate.

Jeoffrey was up to bat next and was waiting at home plate as Sandor ducked down into the dugout. “I don’t need this stupid game to score, I’ve got her”, he bragged while pointing to Sansa with his bat. She froze, she couldn’t believe it. They had never been intimate, not once despite his pushiness. She wasn’t a tease or anything, she just wasn’t comfortable with him, and now so very thankful that she never allowed him any liberties with her body.

Her eyes immediately sought Sandor’s hardened eyes, shaking her head. He was the one who initially warned her about him at one of Jeoffrey’s house parties when she was still enamored by his charm and affluence. She had found herself drunkenly asking Sandor if Jeoffrey truly was her prince charming. He had snorted into his drink, calling her a clueless little bird, saying she was handing over the key to a cage she had willingly entered if she became anything more to Jeoffrey than a passing fancy, and he was right.

Not two weeks later, and she was Jeoffrey’s girlfriend with a schedule, an ultimatum of who she could hangout with, and a boyfriend too pushy for sex. Sandor never said I told you so, but he could have. They had developed an unlikely friendship and comradery, sharing looks when Jeoffrey was being a prat, and sharing bits and pieces of themselves in conversation when Jeoffrey had Sandor drive her home.

He knew she loved plants and had them in every room of her apartment without ever seeing it and how she loved her moped even if she couldn’t travel far with it. She knew he redesigned everything in his flat and built it all himself, and was proud of it even though he would never say it. She knew how he got his scars, and he knew how she got hers. He also knew, last they talked, that her and Jeoffrey had never been intimate and she planned to break up with him. How she hoped he could see the truth written on her face plain as day.

Swinging the bat for a few practice swings, her unknowing ex stepped up the plate and promptly missed three perfect pitches, whining that one came so close to his head that he would’ve gotten a concussion if he didn’t flinch backwards. Clamoring for a forth pitch, Jeoffrey wouldn’t move unless his third pitch was redone.

 _Aaaaaaaannndd I’m done_ , Sansa thought as she tossed her book in her bag and swung it over her poor sunburnt shoulder. Making her way down the bleachers she waved in his direction, beyond caring if he saw or not.

“Sansa! Where are you going babe?” Of course he saw.

“Home” she sang over her shoulder. If she had turned around just then, she might have seen the dumbfounded expression on his face before it gave way to irritation and annoyance. She would have seen him gesture to his buddies to hold on for a second as he headed her way, and Sandor coiled like a spring in the dugout.

Instead she only heard the sound of cleets on the pavement behind her before he grabbed her arm and spun her around causing her bag to scrape against her opposite shoulder and fall to the ground.

“What the hell Jeoffrey?”

“You don’t decide when its time to go, I tell you when it’s time to go, and we haven’t finished our game yet, so I suggest you sit back down on those bleachers and we will talk about this later, OK?” he said in a hiss, his face glowing red as he squeezed her arm tighter.

As he waited for a response, no doubt one where he expected her to apologize and obey, she couldn’t help but laugh…..and, well…. laugh! What started out as a giggle over his tantrum became a full out belly laugh as she swiped his hand from her arm and picked up her bag. She knew it was more than a tantrum, and his behavior was in no way ok, but at the moment her abs were burning from the strain to stop laughing and keep her composure long enough to tell him to, well, to fuck off.

“Jeoffrey….” She began, giggling slightly as she paused. Clearing her throat, she began again. “Jeoffrey, you are a misogynistic…git…a narcissistic narwhal….wait, whatever… who I could very well do without in my life” If she thought his face was red before, he might just be going supernova on her now.

“I am dumping you Sir Jeoffrey Baratheon! May you have a fabulous week in the Hamptons complaining about your prudish ex girlfriend!” she finished with a flourish and posh British accent. Not the most classy way to end a relationship, but she had never done well under pressure.

“You’ll regret this Bitch!” He roared as he stormed away up the incline where his driver sat waiting, ignoring the cat calling from some teammates and the opposing team. She could just see the black top of the Lincoln as it pulled away from the curbside drop off.

Taking in deep breaths with her hands on her hips, she sat down on the low bleachers, her nervous laughter and bravado leaving her thinking how she was going to get her things back from his apartment, or if she ever would. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation she heard a heavy sigh as Sandor Clegane sat down next to her, reclining his back against the next bleacher up.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes as the sun finally began to dip behind the tree line.

“So a narwhal, huh?”

She peeked up at him, his usually stony expression giving way to a rueful grin as he gazed upon the now empty baseball diamond.

“Mhmm, a narcissitic one, such a shame because I usually love narwhals”. He snorted, finally turning his gaze on her. “Are you alright?” he asked, looking at her arm that was yellowing from when Jeoffrey gripped her.

“Yeah, I hadn’t planned to do it in public, but based on his reaction, I’m glad I did.”

“ _That_ should never have happened” he muttered angrily, still looking at her arm.

“Hey” she nudged him with her shoulder “It happened, and I’m so very glad its over, alright?” she smiled tentatively.

“Aye. Do you need a ride home?”

“You don’t have to, I was going to get a cab. Besides, since I’m not Jeoff’s girlfriend anymore you don’t have to drive me around,” she teased, only realizing after she said it that the thought made her quite sad.

“It’s getting dark, I’ll drive you.”

“No really, it’s—“

“To the car, little bird,” he said sternly, fixing her with a look that clearly said _no arguing_. Putting her hands up in surrender she went to pick up her bag only to miss the straps as he stooped and swung it up over his back.

“You know,” she began as they weaved their way through the trees to the south entrance, “women are capable of carrying their belongings”

“Aye, they can, but I wasn’t born this fucking century. My grandmother raised me to have manners and shite, it’d be a shame not to use ‘em every once in a while, I’d get rusty”. She let out a peal of laughter at that.

“I’m being perfectly serious, if I let go of my charming and genteel personality, I would only be able to rely on my looks,” he continued good-naturedly. She knew he was trying his damndest to make her laugh and the thought cheered her.

“Do you really want it back?”

She thought about it for a moment before replying with a confident yes. To his credit, he did eventually give her back the bag, after much complaining and muttering under his breath about his grandmother and chivalry.

As they walked and talked the park did get quite dark, the strollers disappearing from view and now only the occasional runner passing by. Stranger was nearly the only truck left in the parking lot, gleaming ominously dark under the bright lights. Sandor swung his baseball gear bag in the bed with a metallic thud and reached back to Sansa for her bag as well.

“What do you have in this bag? Bricks?” he asked as he set it down in the bed gently.

“Haha, no, I had packed a picnic for today. There is some cheese and crackers and wine, oh, and some cut up veggies.”

“Ah so that’s what was digging into my back”

“Yup, I got a red this time”

“You know he hates red wines don’t you?”

“Yup,” she replied again with a smile.

“You know you hate red wines don’t you?”

“Haha, yeah, how about you take it as thanks for the ride home?”

“Deal. So how about some of those crackers a cheese? I’m starving, and I know you must be too.”

“I would’ve offered but its all been sitting in the sun today with me, I’m certain none of it is too appetizing by now”

“Alright then, uh, either Chinese or Chicago style pizza?”

She wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question, but if she knew one thing for certain, it was that “ You can’t have Chicago style pizza in New York, it’s sacrilegious!”

“Chinese it is! To celebrate our freedom from the most ridiculous twat, you for forever, and me for at least a week until he gets back from the Hamptons”

“I will definitely cheers to that!” she exclaimed happily as she raised her imaginary drink, waiting patiently until he did too, her with a smile and he with a rueful grin.


	2. The Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two lovely contestants are out to Chinese and remembering first meetings =D  
> Oh yeah, and Joffrey's revenge. (Not dark)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love y'all gave the first chapter!!! I couldn't believe it! You are amazing <3
> 
> This chapter is more Sandor-y based so the writing style is going to be slightly different and rougher than Sansa-y chapters.
> 
> Again, this is un-betaed, rambling ideas of a girl dreaming about writing. Handle with care. (Open to suggestion about how I can make it better)

As they waited for her garlic chicken and his beef and broccoli, they chatted idly over egg rolls and the sweet and sour. He had to admit being around her made him a little nervous now. Before it was simple because she was dating Joffrey and so far out of his league so it was easy to talk, now though, it was different. She had gotten to know him, his demons, and still judged him to be good. He didn’t want to mess this up, whatever _this_ was, whether it was just friendship or could, in time, be something more.

 

He was proud of her for breaking it off, exasperated that it took her so long, and furious at the bastard who left a bruise on her skin.  He was relieved his contract as Joffrey’s trainer/bodyman to the golden prick was over in a month, he only wished the Baratheon’s lawyers weren’t as good as they were or else he would’ve quit after the first two weeks into the year long contract. The months dragged by as he doubled shifts at his gym to keep it on track despite the taxing demands of his charge and trainee. Thankfully Bronn was more than willing to help out with running the place, especially after hiring their women’s fitness trainer Margery Tyrell. _I should really make him a co-owner with all the work he puts in_ , he thought.

 

By the time they were breaking open their fortune cookies, the restaurant had all but cleared out, save for the two regular police officers finishing up their meal.

 

“Oh, I like mine. Very appropriate. What’s yours say?”

 

“You first little bird.”

 

“ _You will soon get the recognition you deserve_. That would be so nice at work this week, Daenerys hasn’t been to thrilled about my designs last month for the Fall Season so I scrapped it all and began again,” she sighed. “It was a ton of work to begin with, so doing it over was tough, and I’m still not liking the designs.”

 

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t care one whit about fashion. Just point him in the direction of a store that carried his size and he’d be happy enough. But for Little Bird it was everything, her livelihood and passion, and if he was right, even the yellow sundress she was wearing was designed by her.

 

_The first time he met Sansa was after a Fashion Spring Mixer at the Baratheon Mansion. Joffrey had both he and Meryn as his show pony bodymen during the launch of the event, but dismissed them after a heavy chested flirt came flouncing over and asked for a minute alone. He spent the rest of the evening trying to avoid notice as he watched the wealthy of New York size judge each other’s attire while mingling._

_He grabbed himself a beer from behind the bar and nursed it while he stewed about the blonde cunt and cursing the next half a year of this shit for the next hour. That very morning Joffrey had broken up with a European duchess or supermodel and had him drive the sobbing women back to her hotel with her things while she mumbled incoherently in a different language. So when Joffrey ordered him to take the Stark girl home he wasn’t surprised to see that she had that ‘rich and beautiful’ look about her and was looking at the golden prince like he was the sun itself._ Great, another girl in the procession of Joffrey’s parade of beautiful bimbos who would do anything to land the heir to Baratheon Enterprises _, he thought._

_He usually only ever talked to the women when asking for the address before closing the rear door after their designer shoes and keeping the electric divider shut nice and tight, so he was startled when she headed straight for shotgun and opened and closed her door herself before he could even make it around the car. Not knowing what to say after asking for her address he remained silent as he pulled out of the drive._

_“It was such a lovely party, wasn’t it?”_

_When he didn’t answer her, she pressed “Did you enjoy yourself? I see you are wearing custom Armani, it’s tailored really nicely to you, it’s usually really hard to get it made for such a large guy, do you work in fashion?” He was never one for small talk, or stupid questions, so when she did both in tandem, all the while being unable to look him in the face, it really grated on his already frayed nerves._

_“If I was one of those prissy fashion pricks, do you think I would be driving useless drunken fashion twits home at the beck and call of Joffery fucking Baratheon?”, he heard himself growl before he could stop himself._

_He turned his head for a quick moment to see her reaction, her face blank with shock for a quick moment before indignation took its place._

_“I am not useless or drunk you ass, and you could have just said no instead of biting my head off for just asking a question and being friendly”, the redhead shot back hotly, looking so self righteous as she folded her arms across her chest._

_“Not useless huh girl? What do you do exactly? Design overpriced clothes for women who will only wear the damn thing once to some event before throwing it out? I’d say it is pretty useless”, he continued smugly as he turned the car onto her street and pulled into the drive of her apartment building, noting that it wasn’t as fancy as any of the other places he had to drop off Joffery’s cast offs._

_As he stopped the car, she turned in her seat and fixed him with a piercing glare._

_“Firstly, the name is Sansa. Secondly, I will have you know that I design clothing for working women, something very useful when it is so seriously lacking in the fashion industry. Thirdly I was being courteous and ….”_

_She continued her tirade, all the while looking fiercely at him straight in the face, paying no mind to his scars as she dealt him his proper dose of chastisement for his terrible behavior. Only then did he realize that she had gorgeously deep blue eyes, framed by a spattering of light freckles across her forehead and cheeks that were now tinged pink in anger. His gaze roamed over the rest of her face, taking in her full-bodied lips and the crease of her brow as she looked at him with consternation, only realizing that she had since stopped talking._

_“You don’t care about a word I said did you?” she held his gaze, looking at him queerly, a mix of both irritation and sadness marring her features, the strength seemingly leeching out of her as she retreated back into her seat opening the door with a soft sigh, stepping out, and closing it just as gently._

_Taking off his seat belt, he opened the car door as she was already a few feet away from the car, the wind causing her to hold her flowing red locks in her hand as her evening gown hugged her side._

_“Hey girl!” Letting her hair loose as she picked up the hem of her gown, she continued walking away at a faster pace than before._

_“Uh, Sansa!”, he called willing her to stop. She paused and turned slowly, looking at him disinterestedly and waiting for him to speak._

_“I’m um, I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he cleared his throat to try again. “I’m sorry, you were right to…well, you know”, he gestured to the front seat of his car._

_The wind whipped around them causing both of their hair to dance around their faces as they regarded one another._

_She slowly came to where he stood, peering at his face intently as if to judge if he was truly contrite. Whatever she was looking for, she must’ve found it because the next second he was holding out her hand with a hard look in her eyes and a small tentative smile._

_“Hi, I’m Sansa Stark, nice to meet you, you are?”_

_“Sandor Clegane” he said gruffly as he took her hand in his clumsy paw and shook it._

_“Well Sandor its been interesting to say the least,” she said with a half chuckle. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around, please let Joffrey know that I got home safely and that I will see him tomorrow?”_

_He nodded sheepishly, looking at the ground as she walked toward the lobby of her apartment building waiting until she got in ok. She waved at the door shouting “Night!” over the wind before leaving him to find his way back to the Baratheons._

 

He is jolted back to the present when he hears Sansa sing out “Good night!” to the police officers on their way out and their chorus of “Night!” in return.

 

“Alright, your turn!” she exclaims as she turns her attention back to him.

 

Huffing in mock annoyance, he grabs the cookie and grinds it in his fist, easily crumbling in his grasp.

 

            “That’s not how you open a fortune cookie!”

 

            “Well, do you want to know my fortune or not?” he asks, waving the slight piece of paper covered in cookie dust. She nods and waits for him to read it.

 

“ _You will take a chance in the near future._  What kind of fortune is this?”

 

            “Haha, an extremely vague one, but remember that and I think we better get going because they are trying to close the place.”

 

            After much arguing over who would pay, he ultimately wins, glaring at her when she reaches for her bag and hands the waiter his card. She thanks him as they head out to the car and then over to her apartment building. She is quiet as they pull into the drive in front of her building where they had officially ‘met’ four months prior. He wonders if she ever thinks about that night too.

 

As they enter the lobby, the portly doorman waves her over to let her know she received some packages and and a message from her boyfriend.

 

“We had to leave them at your door, there simply wasn’t enough room for them here Ducky”. She squeezes the old man’s hands in thanks and turns to the elevators looking rattled and apprehensive.

           

            “I have no idea what it could be. I mean, I had some stuff over at his place, but I never thought he would have it returned to me based on the way he acted when I broke up with him.” He grunted in acknowledgement, worried that the sick bastard sent her something twisted in his anger over their public breakup.

 

            As the elevator dinged open signaling her stop, he uses his long strides to keep up with her power walk down the hall to her apartment. He can see four non-descript boxes leaning against the door with an envelop taped to the top box over the crown of her head, as she stares at the boxes.

 

“Let me?” he asked Sansa. She nodded as he ripped the envelop from the tape and handed it to her. Pulling his army knife from his pocket, he cut the tape on the first box opening it to see a few shirts and a sweatshirt, folded in a pile next to three books and a coffee cup. She peered over his shoulder, confusion on her face as she reached in for the books.

 

“These are my things I left at his apartment, I can’t believe he was actually a grown up about this. Even though I wasn’t all to grown up about it,” she said perplexed.

 

“What’s the letter say?”

 

She opens the letter up daintily and begins to read with trepidation on her face. He watches her carefully as her face turns white and goes completely blank. Pulling her bag from her shoulder, she let it fall to the ground as she bends down next to it, emptying its contents frantically and rummaging through it before stilling, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, then her eyes. Impatient to know what it says, he is relieved when she hands it up to him.

 

 Sansa,

 

I know you are saddened to be parting from me, but I am glad we

were able to reach a mutual decision to part ways. I am sorry I

couldn’t deliver your belongings back to you in person, so I had

my staff do it before leaving for the Hamptons for the week and

sent this letter by courier.

 

P.S. You left your cell phone, wallet, and keys in my car, which

I unfortunately didn’t notice on the seat before leaving

the ballpark or for the Hamptons. You can come get them when

I return from the Hamptons in a week, and please don’t show

up uninvited, it would be very narcissistic of you.

                                                            Sincerely,

                                                                                    JB

 

_That little fucker._


	3. Curveball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you for the love! Y'all are ah-mazing.
> 
> This is a petite little chapter, will update with a longer one soon.
> 
> Till then, Batter up!  
> __________________________________________________

“I thought you had your wallet?”

“I thought I did too,” she mumbled from under her hand that had fallen over her mouth again. “We had agreed to leave our cell phones in the car, I left my wallet and keys too because I didn’t think I would need them for the park”

“Does anyone else have a key?”

“Arya still has one, but she is in Army PT in California right now, so even if I emailed her, it probably wouldn’t get here for a few days, if not a week,” she lamented as she stood up. Think, Sansa, think! There must be a way to get in, she urged herself.

“Maybe we can pick the lock or get a locksmith?”

“ Arya and I used to be able to. We’d either forget our keys, or Arya wouldn’t want me to hear her coming in so late. She let it slip around Jon, who promptly told Robb, who then had Kingsguard Privacy company install a state of the art system. He even wanted to have the build a panic room in case anything ever happened due to his political career,” she rambled. “In any case, the door will bolt twice if it detects any tampering and will need the original key and the master key that Robb has in Washington, so that wouldn’t do us much good either.” As she felt tears forming, she opened her eyes wide and clenched her fists to keep them from falling as she continued to think how stupid she was for forgetting her things in the car.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright, ok,” he rumbled as he set his hand gently on her now peeling shoulder. “Let’s just go wake up the building manager and see what can be done.”

Nodding as he steered her back towards the elevator, they left her boxes and upturned bag in front of her door and descended back down to the lobby.

This is so embarrassing, she thought as she began to pick at her shoulder, eyes still wide with unshed tears. As the elevator dinged open yet again, she could see that Ralph had been dozing off in his swivel chair at his desk before the ding had him blinking blearily with a polite smile on his face.

“Ah, Ducky! Going out again?”

“No, I um, I forgot my keys and I’m locked out. I wouldn’t normally ask so late, but could you ring the building manager?”

“Oh my dear, I’m sorry, but, Mrs. Kay is out to Florida for the Forth of July week visiting some family. She took Muffet with her this time because of his irritable bowel syndrome, she said it gets nasty when she goes away for too long, so she didn’t leave the dog walker a key this time.”

Unable to keep her tears back, she felt a few make their way down her cheeks as she tried her best not to let out a sob.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” She heard him fret as he came around his desk holding out an embroidered handkerchief for her. “Don’t cry Ducky, it’s not the end of the world, I will give her a ring in the morning as see what she says, alright?”

Turning to Sandor, the man fixed him with a look and puffed up his chest.

“Alright young man, this is where you’re supposed to comfort the poor girl!” the stout man admonished him. “Do you live in a respectable neighborhood, have a respectable place?”

“Yes sir.”

“You gonna treat this girl with respect and dignity?”

“Always, sir.”

“Good, good. Now, do you have a couch?”

“Yes Sir”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to—”, she tried getting in edgewise, not wanting Sandor to think he had to do any of this.

“Well Mister, you’re on it tonight. This girl here is my best girl, a proper lady and an angel besides. No funny business,” he said sternly, looking at Sandor over his gold-rimmed glasses. “ I might not be a trigger happy gun-totin’ redneck, but plenty of my fellow armymen from the 2nd Infrantry Division are, and they love this girl for helping us out at the VA Clinic. Do we understand eachother?” Sandor glanced at Sansa with a slightly alarmed look on his face, standing up straighter under the scrutiny of her plucky doorman.

“Yes sir, loud and clear”

“Good, good,” the man gently said with a sweet smile back on his face. “And you should make her a nice hearty breakfast. She’s always darting out the doors of this place without ever eating and then barely eats at that fancy workplace of hers.”

“Ralph, I—“

“Now, now. No arguments here Ducky, this here guy is going to take good care of you till I can get a hold of Mrs. Kay in the morning.

“I’ll go up and grab your boxes” she heard Sandor say from behind her as she looked incredulously at Ralph as he chuckled, pleased with himself.

“I can’t believe you’re ok with me heading home with some random guy,” she said sarcastically, still snuffling, but needling him just the same.

“I would never! He ain’t no rando. He’s always drivin’ you home and he even carried you all the way to your apartment that one time when you had drunk too much young lady,” he lectured as she blushed. “Personally I think he’s sweet on ya. Old people have a way of sensing these things.”

“We’re just friends Ralph, he had to do all those things because it was his job poor guy, not because he wanted to.

“Perhaps,” he conceded, “I’m not used to romance ways these days, all I know is when I bring Lucy flowers every Sunday she says she loves me too, and that’s enough for us.”

Before she knew it, Sandor had her boxes and bag loaded up in the bed of his truck and had already handed Ralph his number so he could call them when he reached Mrs. Kay.

“Ready to go Little Bird?”, she nodded and turned back to her sweet doorman.

“Night Ducky”, he said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek, thanking him for his help.

As the doors of her apartment building closed behind her, she whispered to Sandor that he didn’t have to house her and that she could figure something else out.

“It’s no problem Little Bird, besides, I wouldn’t want the 2nd Infantry division after me,” he said with a small grin.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it, I will get out of your hair as soon as possible and I’ll be so quiet you won’t even know that I’m there,” she said apologetically as she swung herself up into the truck. “And I’ll take the couch, there is no way I’m taking your bed from you.”

“No way Little Bird, that couch is as uncomfortable as shit. You’ll have the bed.”

“Oh then I’m definitely taking the couch”

“Oh, you’re definitely taking the bed”

“How about we flip for it?”

“Alright, heads I win, tails you lose. Alright?

“Alright, you have a penny or something?”

“In the center console,” he said as he backed up the car.

Finding a stash of coins, she took out a quarter and held it out for him to see. “Ready?”

She could see him biting back smile as he nodded and she then flipped the coin into the air as he waited to pull onto the street. Snatching it quickly and turning it upside down on her arm. Peeking under her hand, she saw the profile of one George Washington gleaming bright from the stoplight at the end of her street.

“Heads”, she mumbled discontentedly.

He laughed and pulled out into traffic, saying that if Fate was a woman, Chance had to be a gentleman as he told her all about the gloriously uncomfortable couch she would be missing out on as she fought the smile that came to her face thinking that this was the second time tonight that he had ‘rescued her’ and she said as much.

“I’m no knight in shining armor Little Bird, just a regular guy helping out a damsel who can very well take care of her own distresses, who just happens to be locked out of her castle for a night.” He kept his eyes on the road, but she could see he looked a bit bashful about his analogy. She knew he wasn’t a man to wax poetically, or a man of many words in general, so she knew yet again, he was trying just for her.

“Well my non-knight, lead on!” Her enthusiastic response earning her a chuckle and a shake of the head as they headed down Avenue of the Americas towards his apartment that she was excited to finally see.


	4. Ball!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter before camping trip! Enjoy!

As the lift drew them closer to his flat he grew more and more anxious. After he had told her how much of a shithole it had been when he first bought it and all the work he had put into making it his, he’d be lying if he didn’t want her approval. The walls were redbrick from the wood floors he had put in to the high vaulted ceiling and windows, interspersed with large black and white framed photos of his gym. The lighting was industrial but warm, the area sparsely furnished with pieces he had managed to complete over the years.

Woodworking had begun as a chore, he hated the patience it took and more often than not, ended up splintering his projects in his hands in frustration. Though his grandmother did a damn good job repairing his tattered soul, he still had some issues that haunted him in high school. He ran with a rough crowd in high school that liked him for his size, intimidating face, foul mood, and equally foul mouth. Desperate for friends, he would do pretty much anything they decided to do that day, whether it was getting drunk off their parents’ alcohol, beating up some other kids, or stealing booze and cigs. Four of them snuck into one of their parent’s houses taking swigs of the dad’s aged scotch when the parents had returned early from a business trip. The kid panicked, saying the three had bullied him into the house, pointing them in the direction of the window they had jimmied to get in. The parents had called the cops and he was charged with B&E at sixteen.Given the choice between Juvenile Detention and community service hours at a parish, he chose the latter and was paired with a priest that went by Elder Brother. Sandor swore after that he’d never get close enough to anyone to call them ‘friend’, everyone ended up fucking you over in the end anyways.

Gran was pissed.

 He hated that he had caused her the heatache and headache of all the hearings and trials, but even with her being beyond mad she stood by him and showed up with him to every one. He never forgot that, he also never forgot the verbal beat down she gave to him when she found out. As he chucked to himself, he realized he hadn’t show Sansa around and she was looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, uh, we got the entry way,” gesturing to the enclosed space they were in as he moved along the short hallway. “The dining room, living room, and kitchen are all basically this huge room all together,” he continued into the cavernous space, setting one of her boxes and picnic bag on the dark marble countertop.

“These wood carvings are amazing!” she said, indicating the various pieces he was proud enough to display on matching pedestals lining the loft.

“Thank you,” he responded, feeling embarrassed but warmed by her unknowing praise.

“ _You_ did these?”

“Don’t look so surprised Little Bird, I’m not a Neanderthal”

“They are beautiful!” she whispered as she drew close to one, looking at it from different angles.

            He cleared his throat bashfully and continued showing her around, showing her all the improvements he had told her of, and showing off how he used her design advice to make the space both efficient and appealing, even down to the kitchen towels he would have never gotten himself without her telling him to.

“ _That_ , is the couch upon which I will be sleeping,” he said with smugly, indicating an oversized, one-seater recliner, “And behind that sliding wood door right there is where you will be sleeping”.

“Sandor that couch is huge! It could comfortably sleep two of me, come on, let me take the couch.”

“Hey, I won fair and square,” he said with a lopsided smile as he sat down and laid back on the recliner with a sigh, folding his hands behind his head as he stretched as he regarded her through slitted eyes.

“Fine,” she said haughtily, spinning on her heel, grabbing her box from the counter and heading back towards his bedroom.

He got up and followed her in, letting her know where blankets were if she got cold and how to use the shower. He was dead tired and would kill for a scalding shower, but figured he would wait for the morning, a couch was currently calling his name.

“You sure I can’t convince you to take the bed?”

“I’m sure Little Bird, I’ll be right out here if you need anything”

He settled into the couch with a large throw, turning on the t.v. just as he heard the shower run. _I’ll close my eyes for just a minute_ , was his last thought before he drifted off.

______________________________________ 

“You cheater! Up! Up! Up you get!”

“Wha-?“

“ ‘Heads I win, Tails you lose’? Get up and go to your bed!”

“Alright _mom,_ just five more minutes” he said sarcastically with a sleepy chuckle and a huge grin on his face, rolling over away from her and dragging the blanket up over his head, leaving his feet unprotected from cold hands. She went for his achillies heel, giving it a good pinch, expecting him to jump like her brothers. He simply harrumphed and continued to ignore her.

Letting out a huff and blowing a red tendril out of her face, she took a slight running start and vaulted herself upon the lumpy blanket hiding a grumpy Sandor beneath it.

“I’m going to sleep on this uncomfortable couch, with, or without you on it, so you might as well move out by yourself or I will push you out!” she warned as she tried to pull the blanket away from him.

He snorted, holding onto the blanket covering his face with both hands. Giving up, she then started poking him through the fabric hoping he was ticklish.

“ ‘ _Ey_!” she heard him exclaim as his body jumped, hands moving to protect his abs as she then yanked the blanket off of him.

“Out!” she say as she points him to his bedroom, trying to keep a straight face as he looks at her incredulously as if he couldn’t believe she would resort to tickling.

“Not bloody likely” he retorts and settles himself further into the couch, feigning sleep. She huffs yet again, giving an experimental push against his side, _oh my freaking goodness he’s heavy_ , she thought as she exhales loudly.

Placing both hands along his arm and bicep, she begins pushing with all her might.

“You—are so—ridiculously—stubborn!”, she gripes as his body begins to shift slightly. “Seriously—this cannot be what—your grandmother meant—“she continued breathlessly as she finally lifted his body enough so that he is turned on his side. _Just a little bit more_!

“You weigh as much as a baby whale!” she complained as she turned to use her whole body as leverage to push him out of the chair.

“s’not so bad when you are as cute as one too, and you have a weird fascination with marine life” he adds, nonchalantly, as if she isn’t practically underneath him using all her bodily power and might to force him out.

“Not—cute—ugh!”

“No? I suppose I would be a beached whale on land like this,” he teased as his whole body went limp atop her, comically crushing her beneath him with her back to his as she tried to use her legs beneath her to attempt one last ditch effort to push him off. Failing to move him more than a few inches she gave up and wriggled out from under him to settle at his side.

            “ Insufferable man!”

He shrugged as he grinned at her, fully awake and looking so very smug.

“Suit yourself,” she groused, as she made a show of throwing the blanket out over her body and getting as comfortable as possible with him taking up most of the space. The momentary silence after their mock fight was a bit deafening as he inexplicably went silent, his body angled away from her and a hand surreptitiously adjusting his hair to cover the left side of his face.

“Sandor…” she veritably growled out in warning. He paused, sighing as his hand fell to his lap and turned to her slowly, leaving his hair down obscuring his scars from view.

“Sansa—,” he began quietly as she seethed.

“ Don’t you _Sansa_ me! We’ve been over and _over_ this!”

“Sansa, I’m sorry. It’s a force of habit when someone gets too close to my scars. It’s not you, it’s just gonna take more time to break the habit. Please understand?”

She looked hurt but mollified, peeping a soft sorry from her blanket nest next to him as he offered her a soft smile as they turned to the T.V. looking for anything good to watch while his mind swirled around how he thought he had been free of the impulse to cover his scars, except when it came to Sansa.

It had been one of their biggest rows they had ever had, and they ended up spatting with each other quite often. Nearly a month into her relationship with Joff and countless car rides to and from her apartment, she fumed that Sandor never fully looked at her when they spoke. He used his hair as a persistent shield, only giving her side glances out of the corner of his eye after the first night they met, and she had had enough.

_It was a bad day to begin with. In the morning she had spilled Danerys’ coffee on the ride up the elevator, by lunch Arya was no longer talking to her after arguing about her new boyfriend, and by four the rainclouds had come rolling in as she buckled her riding helmet. The only thing that was looking up was that Joff had made plans to meet her at the Baratheon Estate before taking her to an early dinner after work. She had rode her mo-ped over, thankful that the sky hadn’t opened up on her way over, and parked it under the overhang next to the garage after passing through the gates. Hastening up the stairs as she felt a sprinkle on her cheek, she pushed the made her way into the foyer where one of their bodymen was waiting._

_Trant always gives me the creeps she thought to no one in particular and she felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the rain that had begun to fall in earnest outside._

_“What can I help you with Miss Stark?” he asked salaciously as he looked her up and down, spending too much time gazing at her chest._

_“Hey!” she exclaimed as she snapped her fingers “Eyes are up here ya creep” she scolded with more confidence than she felt._

_His face turned turned ruddy as his eyes snapped up to hers, a sneer revealing his yellowing teeth as he took a deep breath._

_“You—“_

_“Careful Toad. Wouldn’t want Joffrey to know you had been eying his property now, would we?”_

_Turning around towards the voice, she saw Sandor leaning against one of the pillars behind her, looking bored as he used what looked to be a standard issue army knife to clean his nails. Though irritated at Sandor for calling her Joff’s property, she began to slowly shift towards him and away from Trant as she turned back to the Toad._

_She saw him swallow heavily as he kept his eyes fixed on Clegane, eyes popping comically before promptly leaving the foyer in the direction of the guardroom._

_“Come on Little Bird. I’ll take you home,” he said, gesturing towards the window where she saw the light rain had turned into a downpour._

_“I’m waiting for Joff actually, we’re going to dinner.”_

_“It’s Thursday,’ he said deadpanned, side-glancing at her like she’s an idiot. Returning the look, she haughtily replied “So?.”_

_“The blonde prince is at that snobbish metro bar, he goes every Thursday with the dipshits he works with” he said, not bothering to hide the distain from his voice._

_“ Well, he said he’d meet me here just yesterday,” she said dismissively, “ so I’m sure he’s on his way.”_

_“Stupid Bird, if Trant and I are here, who’s driving your prince?”_

_Scrunching up her face, she tried coming up with a cutting response as he stared her down, her mind coming up empty as he finally looked at her after a whole month of depriving her of that simple courtesy._

_“Call him, see what he says” he urged her, none too kindly, now looking irritated as he pushed off the column, coming to stand in front of her._

_“Fine! I will!” she snapped as she dug her phone out of her purse, not breaking eye contact, showing him that he couldn’t cow her._

_Finally fishing her phone from her purse, she looked down to dial Joff’s number, returning her gaze to the angry statue of a man looking both annoyed and smug at the same time._

_She was just starting to get nervous as Joff finally answered on the fourth ring, the sounds of laughter and dull shouting in the background._

_“Hey babe! What do you need?”_

_“Hey! I was just making sure we were still on for dinner tonight?”_

_“Oh yeah, uh babe, that’s tomorrow night.”_

_“No Joff, you said tonight, Thursday,” she reminded him gently._

_“Huh, you must’ve heard me wrong.” Her eye twitched as Sandor leveled her with a superior look, standing close enough to hear everything Joff said and the din behind him._

_“Well, I’m at your place, maybe we can catch a late dinner?” she prompted, trying to salvage her terrible day and her pride._

_“Sorry babe, me and the buddies just started a round of pool, I wont be home till late. We’ll have dinner together tomorrow,” he said sounding distracted and not sorry at all._

_“ Mya’s gallery is opening up tomorrow night, remember? I’m heading over early and staying after to help her set up and take down. I put it on your calendar.”_  
_“Can’t you just cancel? Have another friend help her?”_

_“No Joff, I can’t just cancel,” she said slowly through slightly gritted teeth, now looking anywhere except at the eyes that had been ignoring her for the better half of a month, willing their triumphant gaze to be trained on anything other than her face._

_“Alright babe, whatever you want to do, I’ll cancel our dinner plans for tomorrow then, no problem,” he said sounding put-upon, “ I’ll see you next week alright?”_

_“Joff—“, the cacophony of sound ended abruptly as he disconnected the line, leaving her face to face with Clegane. As her face screwed up in shame and disgust at her own boyfriend’s behavior, she found she couldn’t bear to see his expression and turned her gaze to the marble floors._

_She heard him step backward and huff angrily. Peeking at him, she saw him adjusting his hair further over his scars before returning her gaze downward, his acerbic tone breaking the silence._

_“Get in the car, I’ll drive.”_

_Still nursing her wounded pride, she followed him quietly out the large front doors and over to the cars, not needing to worry that the rain might ruin her makeup. She didn’t comment when he opened the rear door for her, simply got in, grateful that he was still driving her home. She always got sick when she spent time out in the rain, and she hadn’t looked forward to driving her moped back to her apartment._

_He got into the driver’s seat and started the car, the engine’s gentle humming and steady droplets from the rain soothing her as she tried to breathe deeply._

_The electric buzz of the divider going up between them flooded her with a sense of urgency as she regarded the back of his head._

_“Wait!”_

_He paused the opaque divider with only inches to spare._

_“Yes Miss Stark?” he asked over his shoulder with cool indifference. It felt like a punch to the gut when he said her name like that. Ever since she reproached him when they first met he had called her either Sansa or Little Bird, but never Miss Stark, never so coldly. She didn’t understand why he was so mad, she didn’t understand why he wouldn’t look at her, she didn’t understand what she could have done to make him hate her. I didn’t do anything! she thought furiously. Her pride was itching for round two, wanting to reclaim back some of what she had lost when he had ridiculed her for his own satisfaction and amusement, and angry at herself for letting him get under her skin._

_“What Is Your Problem?!”_

_“Excuse me?” he asked, glancing at her through the rear view._

_“I said. What. Is. Your._ Problem _?!” She asked forcefully, barely keeping her voice under a yell._

 _“I don’t have a problem_ Princess _,” he snorted derisively as the divider came down, tossing the words over his shoulder carelessly as he pointed his finger at her through the rearview. “Don’t bring your shit to my door just because you can’t accept the ugly truth about life and face your perfect precious Joffrey.”_

_“ You have some nerve talking about facing people. You haven’t looked at me in over a month! Always with your hair down and never giving me that courtesy when I see you wear your hair in a bun around everyone else! You look them in the eye! What’s the matter, can you not bear to look at me??”_

_“I Can’t Bear to Look?!” he roared with venom as he turned violently in his seat, fury twisting his features, “I saw your look of revulsion when you got a good look at my scars today. Not a pretty sight are they?_

_“ I didn’t—“_

_“Not everything is pretty is it? That’s your fucking problem, pretending that something doesn’t exist if it doesn’t fit your picture perfect world!”_

_“You’re the one that has the problem! I have no problem what so ever with your scars! That’s all they are! Just scars!”_

_“Just scars? JUST SCARS??”, he reiterated bitterly, “You’re just a perfect fucking princess who thinks the world is all happiness and rainbows. Well let me tell you something, the world is a shitty and dark place, and the people here are no better, the sooner you accept that, the better.”_

_“Why are you so awful?”_

_“I’m just honest, It’s the world that’s awful”._

_“I don’t believe you, the world is good, people are good. I know lots of genuinely good people. I’m a good person, or at least I try to be. Joff’s a good person, my family are good people. I bet your family are good people, even you’re a good person, though you can be an ass.” She realized she had made a terrible mistake as his face turned from fury to rage before he turned in his seat to grip the steering wheel._

_“You know, you’re just a stupid girl! A stupid, superficial rich girl, who doesn’t know a thing about the real world with the same amount of depth and intelligence as a teaspoon!”_

_That pulled her up short. She didn’t think that he, well, she didn’t know what to think now. He prided himself on his honesty, and she sure got it she supposed. Fighting back the tears that threatened to overspill, she watched as raindrops made their way down her window._

_“Ok” she said quietly, gathering her things in her arms, “Ok” she repeated absentmindedly as she left the car. She thought back to the first night they had met and marveled at the similarity, thinking how it was fitting that their tentative friendship ended nearly exactly as it had begun._

_The heavy rain made it hard to see as she made her way to her baby blue Vespa, I’ll manage, she thought with new resolve as she put on her helmet._

_She had just kicked the bike to life as she heard him yell her name. Pretending not to hear, she peeled out of the drive, hearing him shout her name once more before heading for the gates. As they opened automatically for her, she looked back in her side mirror, just making out his shape through the rain before turning on to the street, barreling her way home swiping water from her face, not knowing if they were tears or raindrops._

_She had woken up the next morning with a sore throat and a terrible cough thinking, this is why we don’t ride Vespas in the rain Sansa. She tried to punch up all her designs at work that day, all the while stuffing tissues in her cardigan pockets before Danerys sent her home to sleep it off over the weekend. She sent a message to Joff letting him know she was sick and would probably be so over the weekend. ‘K’ was his elegant response. She tried not to think of what Sandor had said about her, but he gave her self-doubt plenty of material to sift through over the weekend as she stayed holed up in her apartment, protected by an army of used tissues littering the place._

_She was contemplating going out to get groceries for about an hour when her doorman buzzed her._

_“Hello?” she spoke into the intercom dolefully._

_“Hey Ducky! I’ve got a nice young man here carrying some soup with your name on it. Want me to send him up?”_

_“Yes please” she mumbled tiredly, but with a little excitement at the prospect that Joffrey was thoughtful enough to to surprise her and bring her soup. Catching her reflection in the mirror by the door, she tried pinching her cheeks to give her an ‘alive’ look, but ultimately accepting that she would look like a zombie from walking dead._

_She shuffled over to the door in her slippers, hearing a firm knock just before she reached the door. Not bothering to check the peephole, she opened the door to see, not her boyfriend, but Sandor holding a brown paper bag and a French baguette wrapped in baking paper._

_“It’s you” she said with disappointment, but noting that his hair was in a high bun leaving his scars bare. He looked away for a quick moment and nodded before quickly training his eyes back on hers intently._

_He stood there awkwardly for a moment shifting his weight before clearing his throat._

_“I, um. I came to bring you this,” he said unnecessarily, holding out the bag and baguette for her to take. She eyed the items, recognizing them for the peace offerings that they were. Her desire for food and her desire to stand her ground warred inside of her before the gentle smell of homemade chicken noodle made the decision for her. Damn, I can never keep grudges, she complained to herself as she took the offered items._

_“I also wanted to let you know, that uh, I didn’t mean what I said about you. At all”_

_“I’m just trying to be your friend Sandor, why do you always have to lash out?,” she asked without energy. I’m too tired for this._

_“I’m not a good man Little Bird, I don’t have friends, don’t know how to keep them.”_

_“Not jumping down their throats when they’re trying to be nice is a good start,” she said sardonically, “and maybe not making fun of them for your own enjoyment and amusement.”_

_“I wasn’t—“ he looked ready to argue again, but stopped himself, clutching his hands in loose fists looking contrite. “Yeah, maybe.”_

_“I can’t keep up this whole argument thing, either decide to try and be friends or at least friendly or stick to driving, please.” She pleaded, too exhausted to care about her lack of courtesy._

_He really looked at her long and hard then. She felt as if she her soul was being examined, weighed, and measured as she held his gaze._

_“Alright Little Bird, friends,” he said dubiously, as if the word was foreign on his tongue._

_“Alrighty then Sandor, as my friend, you have some more groveling to do” she sniffled matter-of-factly, fishing a tissue from her robe pocket and blowing her nose._

_He nodded, a small hopeful look on his face as he said goodbye and made his way to the elevator. Little did she know that at that moment that he had made the decision to be friends with someone, something he had opposed for nearly 20 years, deciding that if he was going to be hurt by someone getting too close, he might as well let it be a little bird._  
_________________________________________________

He woke a few hours later, some infomercial program lending a soft glow to the room as he looked at the woman nestled into his side. Little Bird.

As he tried getting up without waking her, she heard her mumble something under her breath. Pausing for a moment, he was sure she was sleep talking before he moved again.

“Don’t—you dare move,” she grumbled from his side, “I’m finally comfy.”

Smiling gently, he lifted the blanket up over both of them, powered off the T.V., and let sleep claim him once more.


	5. Strike One!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek in the life of a Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me y'all! Comments are love!  
> Tell me what you like and what you don't like as much.  
> Hopefully I'm keeping it somewhat interesting =P.

The soft sounds of muffled traffic guided Sansa awake as soft morning light found it’s way under the sliding wooden door. Blinking blearily and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she tried to remember what she had just been dreaming about. She faintly remembered feeling safe and strong hands lifting her up and holding her, the faint smell of pine needles reminding her of her father.  She couldn’t remember the last time her dad had carried her to bed as a little girl, but she did remember that she always felt so safe ensconced in his arms as he lifted her gingerly.

Smiling at the memory, she took in her surroundings remembering that there should be a lumbering Sandor nearby….and that she should be on a couch, not a dreamily comfortable California King smelling of sandalwood and pine. _Drat that man!_ she thought, realizing her dream had been Sandor carrying her to the bed as she dreamed. Still smiling to herself as she pulled the duvet off and went in search of her lumbering quarry.            

Sliding the carved wooden door aside, she expected to see him somewhere in the spacious room that was his flat, but was greeted only by the faded smell of brewed coffee and sunlit dust motes floating through the space gently.

“Sandor?”

When no response came, she made her way to the kitchen to see if any coffee had been left. As she drew closer, she noticed a cell phone next to a small scrap of paper on the corner of the counter covered in his masculine scrawl.

_Morning LB,_

_Had to go to the gym to take care of a few things. Coffee is in the brewer and breakfast is on the stove, Ralph’s orders. He is supposed to call sometime this morning to tell you how the key situation is. I’ll be back around 9 and can drive you back if you like. Help yourself to anything in the meantime, I set out some aloe vera in the bathroom for your sunburn if you need some._ _-Sandor_

Mentally making a note to definitely take him up on the Aloe Vera offer as she eyed her red peeling shoulders, she moved towards the stove and reached for the top of the red frying pan, lifting it to reveal a spinach and ham omelet wider that her arm, with what looked to be bell peppers and mushrooms on the inside. _I bet this is what he eats before his morning workouts_ , she thought, thinking how she would never be able to finish it in one sitting. As she set the omelet to reheat, she poured herself a cup of coffee and went in search of some cream, sugar _, or simply regular milk,_ she grumbled to herself. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, she settled for Muscle Milk, the closest thing she could find. _Of course he would drink his coffee black_. She gathered up the newspaper from the entryway and set herself on the kitchen stool with her coffee and omelet, waiting for Ralph’s call contentedly, humming and thinking how lovely her Sunday morning ended up being, feeling more relaxed and free than she had felt in a very long time.

______________________________________________

Sandor was at his usual spot on the second floor in the back corner of his gym, pummeling his fists into the faded red punching bag that had been dubbed ‘Joffrey’ for the better half of the past year. He thought he had his anger in control from yesterday when the bastard bruised Sansa’a arm, but the creaking of the chains holding the bag to the ceiling and the sand leaking from the seams told him differently.

“Hey man” he heard Bronn greet him from the office amiably, the Irishman inexplicably immune to Sandor’s moods.

“Hey” he replied with a terse nod, breathing heavily as he turned back to the bag.

“I know that one is old and all, but I’d like to put in an order for a replacement before you make it Miami Beach over there”

“Yeah,” he agreed, steadying the bag and unwrapping the boxing tape from his hands distractedly, grabbing the hand broom from the corner and stooping down to clear the grains of sand from the floor.

“The golden prick being an arse again?”

“When isn’t he?”

“Fair point, but you seem to be more heated at him than usual this morning, and he’s not even in the city this week” he said jokingly, tipping his head towards the bag as Sandor threw the sand in a nearby trashcan and came to stand by the rail. He stayed silent for a moment, surveying the gym as the regulars got on with their morning workouts.

“Anyways—“

“Sansa broke up with him…he grabbed her hard enough to bruise before she shook him off”, he said abruptly, studiously watching the ring as two men sparred against each other.

“Ah” Bronn replied, careful to keep his tone neutral, sounding serious for once as his brow furrowed and his eyes sparked in anger.

“She forgot her cell, wallet, and keys in his car and the bastard took them with him to the Hamptons for the week, saying she’ll get them back when he gets back to town.” Looking sideways, he saw Bronn’s face grimace then turn to concern and confusion.

“Where is she—?”

“She’s staying with me.”

“Ahhhh,” Bronn said with far more interest and a teasing lilt back in his voice.

“It’s not like that,” Sandor warned him.

“I’m sure it’s not like that,” Bronn pestered, dragging out the words and wriggling his eyebrows at his friend.

“Whatever, what about you and the Tyrell Trainer? Heard she decked you in sparring last week.” That wiped the smug grin off Blackwater’s face as he launched into how he had let the blonde temptress win, and how he could beat her in a match anytime he wanted.

“Oh, I’m sure, I’m sure. Can we go do work now?” he patronized him, needling him good-naturedly as they headed to the office.

While his year with the Baratheons had enabled his gym to get off the ground and established, it came at a high price. His days with the boy were supposed to be limited to four hours a day for training, which promptly turned to eight as a bodyman, then sometimes twelve to sixteen. The boy liked surrounding himself with the most intimidating and menacing bodymen available, most of them more than willing to do his dirty work. He was compensated for his time, but it cut down on his face time in the gym and ability to complete all the paperwork needed to run a successful business.

The first two months were near impossible before Bronn approached him during a sparring session and offered to work at the gym while he searched for another bartending job. Sandor had taken him up on his offer, splitting his time between the boy, the gym, and also pouring over his contract with Baratheon Enterprises, trying to find a way out.

Unable to find a loophole, he resigned himself to a year of guarding and training the blonde prince, cursing that he had ever accepted the offer in the first place. Bronn had exceeded his expectations and was good with the day-to-day, leaving Sandor with the paperwork and executive decisions for the place. After six months, he decided it was time to hire a female lifting trainer who could also do specialty classes like cross-fit and yoga. The first girl he hired spent too much time fixing her hair and trying to flirt with the gym-goers than applying herself to training. Many of the regulars were glad when he let the Mallory girl go, saying how uncomfortable she made them feel with her gawking.  Margery Tyrell produced the exact opposite effect when she strode confidently into The Gym one afternoon, headed straight to his office and introduced herself as his new female trainer.

He was impressed with her gall, and offered her a probationary job basis for one week without pay. She shrugged and shook his hand, saying when he hired her full time he would reimburse her for the week she worked. If he decided not to go with her, he got a free week of labor off her. As she turned to leave, Bronn had just finished a workout and was heading to his office when he spotted her. Sandor had to refrain from telling him to pick his jaw up off the floor lest flies collect there. Margary just smiled like a cat that caught a canary and sauntered out, yelling over her shoulder that she’d start work the next day. 

Ever since then, Bronn had put even more effort into the Gym, puffing himself up like a preening peacock, and stepping it up in the paperwork side of the business. Over time, it became second nature to Bronn who no longer did it for Tyrell’s attention, but for his pride he had in the business. Sandor had promoted him and given him a raise, but the idea of hiring him on as a co-owner had been itching at him since Bronn now did nearly as much for The Gym as he did.

Grabbing the gallon of water off his desk, Sandor took a swig before setting it on the floor beside him as he sat down in the swivel chair he had to order special from Ikea to accommodate his size. Bronn threw himself in the chair opposite him, which gave an alarming creak, before taking a swig from his own bottle as he regarded Sandor over the rim.

“What did you want to talk about at the butt crack of dawn this fine morning?” he asked nonchalantly, cutting to the chase.

Appreciating their mutual hatred of small talk, he got straight to the point.

“I want to bring you on as co-owner of this place. You do enough for the role anyways, just making it official is all, if you want it. You’d put your name on the lease, have to file special tax forms, but you’d get more of an input in this place and how we run and develop it.”

Bronn gazed at his Nalgene and nodded to himself as Sandor listed the things he’d have to do. Growing impatient as the man moved to picking at his nails while continuously nodding to himself, Sandor cleared his throat once bringing Blackwater’s gaze back to him.

“Can I change the name?”

“What’s wrong with the fucking name?”

“The Gym? You couldn’t come up with anything better?”

“Screw you, what would you call this place?”

“I dunno, anything other than ‘The Gym’ would be better really.”

“The name stays,” he growled.

Bronn turned serious, and sat up straighter in his chair, setting the Nalgene on the ground and folding his hands together.

“This is a big thing you’re asking you know?”

“I know.”

“If I do this, I do have one condition, and it’s a deal breaker for me”

“Name it.”

Bronn leaned even closer, unsmiling as he fixed him with stern gaze.

“Im gonna need you to order me on of those lavish chairs your fancy arse gets to sit on everyday.”

“Ah, sod off you buggering Irishman,” he retorted with humor, leaning back in his chair, secretly relieved Bronn was taking it in stride.

“One with extra plush and swanky handles like yours, you miserable Scotsman!” Bronn yelled as Sandor made to go to the backroom. Grabbing the papers he had already drafted, he dropped the stack on the desk in front of Bronn 

“You’ll be needing to sign all these then, there’s a lot of legal shite we have to do, but it shouldn’t take too long. I have to get back to Sansa and see where we are with getting access to her apartment today.”

“I do hope the lass is ok, she was too good for that prick anyway.”

He found himself nodding as he gathered up his gym bag.

“I’ll be able to be here a lot this week since Joffrey’s out of town, get caught up on a few things.”

“Thanks man, seriously” Bronn said, holding out his hand as Sandor stood and got ready to leave. Giving it a firm shake, he gave a rare smile to the guy that was going to be his new business partner.

“I’ll be back tomorrow and order a replacement for the red bag” he said as he passed through the office doorway and towards the gym exit, hearing Bronn yell ‘Remember! Extra plush for the chair!’ as he waved over his shoulder from the door and make his way to his truck, ready to get back to a certain bird who was sure to be up right now, _and probably ready to get back to her own nest_ , his subconscious butted it, causing his actions to slow slightly as he buckled his seat belt and Stranger roared to life, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she’d want to stick around just a little bit longer before flying away.


	6. Time out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor invites Sansa to meet Elder brother and Gran. Big steps, big steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! A lovely reviewer asked me for another chapter about a month ago, but I didn't see it till today and I promised her another chapter! So, as a woman of my word, here it is! Slightly shorter than my usual fare, but adding the next scene wouldn't jive. Again, comments and reviews are my life, if you want more of this story, let me know and I will try to accommodate =).  
> ~a message from your friendly neighborhood GhostyGhosty!

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Less than 15 minutes after leaving the Gym, he stood staring at his front door, inexplicably nervous to open it. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he simultaneously thought, _It’s Sansa, not the inquisition,_ and that he really should’ve taken a shower before leaving the gym. Turning the key in the lock gently, he pushed open the door and dropped his bag on his way to the kitchen before Sansa’s lilting voice stopped him in his tracks as it reached his ears. He had only ever heard her sing once before and it had been breathtaking.

            _He had been about to come off his night shift at the Baratheon Estate when Joffrey ordered him to stay an extra two hours so he and some other wealthy gits could play poker and brag about new acquisitions, whether they be women, cars, or companies. He wanted Sandor and Trant to play as well, but he had no interest being in the company of any people in the Mansion longer than he had too. Glad that Trant eagerly sat down and was dealt in, Sandor mumbled that he was going to do a perimeter check and quietly exited the room that was reeking of self-importance and the smoke of cigars._

_As he ambled towards the security room, he paused when he heard the soft tinkling of piano keys coming from the show room. He knew no one living here knew how to play the piano, they just had it for show, as most of the décor was at the estate. Silently, he entered the room, keeping out of the line of sight from the mystery player as they changed keys. Shortly after, he heard a gentle, crystalline voice join the soft tune and he knew exactly who was playing._ Little Bird. He listened for a few more minutes before breaking his silence.

_“I thought the Little Bird was a morning dove, not a night lark,” he lightly joked, startling her from her quiet song. Upon spotting him, the corners of her mouth drew up slightly and she resumed playing, humming the same tune._

_“I usually am a morning bird, but I’m supposed to be waiting till Joffrey is done with his business meeting”_

_“Is that what he told you he is doing?”_

_“Mhmm” she hummed in tune with her song, gazing at the keys serenely. “Shall I sing a song for you?” she questioned. He leaned against of the marble columns in the room, unable to tell her what he wished; that she was too good for Joff, that he wanted to beat the blonde boy for making her feel less than what she deserved, that he was growing to care for her beyond a friend and couldn’t bear to see her hurt._ Like she’d want to hear that from you, dog _he thought bitterly to himself._

_He was about to answer when she closed her eyes and began to sing. He did not recognize the song, but as her voice rose and fell with emotion, he was speechless and held captive by her words, each verse feeling like the words were being written in his bones and his very soul. Each chorus binding him to her, as she sang just for him. As she sang the final chorus, she opened her eyes and met his, not knowing that in that moment she had sealed his fate. She must’ve felt something shift between them, because she couldn’t look away as his slate-grey gaze as she began the final verse._

_He was so engrossed in her that he didn’t hear the footsteps echo on the marble behind him or the annoyed exhale before the silhouette of Cersei Lannister passed him and closed the grand piano top with a loud bang._

_“Sansa, darling,” she began with an overly saccharine smile,” this is hardly the appropriate time of night to bother everyone in this household with this racket. I expected better manners from you,” she scolded as the girl blushed furiously and profusely began to apologize to the lioness._

_The golden matriarch turned her glittering green gaze on Sandor who immediately put on his most bored expression, usually the safest choice when dealing with Cersei’s violent mood swings. “Hound, while you were standing there gawking, Joffrey finished up with his_ meeting _” she said low and dangerously “Escort Miss Stark to the garage where he is waiting then meet me in my office”._

_Not wanting to infuriate her boyfriend’s mother more than she already had, Sansa gathered her things and Sandor followed wordlessly, aggravated that she had interrupted._ But interrupted what? _He thought._

_The night ended seemingly normal with Sansa chirping a soft goodbye to him before getting into the car with the rich bastard, unaware of the inner- turmoil she had left in her wake in the stoic Clegane. Not knowing what to do with his unrequited feelings, he resigned himself to protecting the little bird and making sure she saw for herself how Joffrey was, but nothing more._

Jolting himself out of his musings, he finally regained the use of his legs and slowly shifted and peered around the corner. She was sitting at the island, coffee in one hand and a paperback in the other, her bare foot tapping the air slightly as she sang as her hair acted like a beacon as the sun filtered down through the windows and set it aflame. He stood there for a few moments before his brain reminded himself that he was being creepy and should probably make himself known.

“Good morning Little Bird,” he rumbled, unable to hold back a smile as she gave him one in return.

“Good morning Sandor, I hope you don’t mind, but I used some of your muscle milk for my coffee”

He gave a short bark of laughter and assured her he didn’t mind at all as he began making his post workout shake.

“No call from Ralph?”

“None,” she sighed out.

“He’ll call Little Bird,” he said as he patted her shoulder, mindful of her sunburn. “Would—uh, would you like to come to church with me this morning?”

He saw her look up sharply at him with a shocked look on her face.

“Yes, Little Bird, I go to church” he answered her unspoken question before she could find her words.

“I’m just surprised is all, you often tell me you don’t quite believe in the gods.”

“I mainly go for Elder Brother, he helped me quiet my rage in my younger years. You would like him. I would never admit it to him, but I came to enjoy working alongside him at the parish near the end of my community service time, so I continue to go and help out where needed. He was there for me when Gran died a few years ago, we had her burial service at the parish. Her grave overlooks the entire grounds, she used to sit up there and watch over me as I worked with Elder Brother, to make sure I was staying out of trouble,” he reminisced with good humor. “I owe him more than I could ever repay him,” he finished quietly as he looked anywhere but at her as he gulped down his shake.

“I’d love to go and meet them both Sandor. Could we stop and get flowers for your grandmother before we go?”

Nodding, he finished his shake, tipping it back and setting it in the sink for later.

“Alrighty then Little Bird, I’ll grab a shower, then we’ll go”

“Dress code?” she questioned after him as he headed towards his bedroom.

“Your yellow dress would be perfect” he said, throwing her a small smile over his shoulder as he disappeared behind the wooden door, thinking idly that he would wear his charcoal black shirt to complement Sansa’s yellow. _Gran would like that._


End file.
